


Fallen Feathers

by FukaiFox



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Author Is Not Religious, Canonical Child Abuse, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trans Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, angel au, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FukaiFox/pseuds/FukaiFox
Summary: Angels come to Earth all the time and they go unnoticed. After all, how likely is it you would notice if somebody's eyes are a little too colorful, if their shadow is just a little too tall, if their skin is just a little too soft? Do you think you would notice if someone's breathing was fake?Nathaniel fell years ago out of love and devotion to his human, and seven years later finds them married. They're happy, and Gavin is blissfully unaware of Nathaniel's true nature. But what happens when Nathaniel's brother comes to Earth to investigate the death of a human by an angel's hands?
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Josh/Markus/North/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Fallen Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> I made this AU almost 2 years ago after I binged all of Good Omens right after finishing Lucifer and I've only just recently got around to actually making it XD
> 
> this is Nathaniel's story, and if you've read Breach of Containment, my SCP Reed900 fic, you already know who he is :)
> 
> YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ BREACH OF CONTAINMENT BEFORE READING THIS

“…there’s nothing for you down there, brother.” someone says, one of many eyes staring at the back of their sibling, wings flared and quivering as they look down at the Earth.  
“That’s not true.” The other angel replies, voice calm and so far away, but reverent. “ _He’s_ down there, and that’s enough for me.”

-

Nathaniel comes into the precinct with a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, just as he has every day for the last seven years. He sets down the coffee he’d grabbed on his way in before walking to his locker towards the back of the precinct, behind the captain’s office, and puts his helmet and leather jacket inside the one designated for him, leaving him in black slacks, a black blazer, charcoal waistcoat, crimson button-down, and black tie, with a white overcoat over top, finished off with white Oxfords with black trim and heel. Gavin liked to call this outfit “extra”, but it suited Nathaniel just fine.

**#9 - DET. LUCAN, N.**

With a sigh, he returns to his desk just in time for his long-time partner to finally make a sleepy appearance, arms stretched above his head and mouth open in a large yawn. Nathaniel smiles fondly before kissing the other’s cheek.  
“Good morning, Gavin.” He says.  
Gavin snorts and playfully shoves him away.  
“What are you greeting me for? We sleep in the same bed, loser.”  
Nathaniel chuckles.  
“Yes, but that’s when I greet you as my husband, not my partner.”  
“You greet your work partner with a kiss? Someone call HR.” Gavin teases before pulling Nathaniel in by his red tie and pecking his lips. “Good morning, Nate. Now get, before the captain sees us, and then we _really_ have to see HR.”

Nathaniel leaves his partner and goes to his desk, watching with a smile as Gavin plops down in his own chair just across the way, swiping the coffee Nathaniel had placed there when he arrived in a practiced, instinctive motion as he spins around to face his computer screen. He looks down at his hands where they rest on the keyboard and his eyes flick to the ring glinting in the bright lights of the precinct, a band of black onyx with inlaid triangular blue opal shapes, and he smiles again.  
Gavin wears the same ring on his own left hand, just as he has every day for the last three years.

It’s been seven years since Nathaniel came to this place.

Seven years since he looked down on Earth from the gleaming silver city, looked back over his shoulder to his home and found himself wanting. 

Besides, Gavin needed him more than Nathaniel needed Heaven. It was one of the easiest decisions he’d ever made in his millennia of existence.

“Oh, yeah, did’ja hear we’re getting a new guy today?” Gavin asks from his desk.  
“Oh? No, I wasn’t aware.”  
“Yeah,” the man sighs. “Some fuckin’ wonder boy apparently. Poor kid got partnered with Anderson from what I heard. He’s green as hell, I can’t wait to see how the old man takes this.”  
Nathaniel chuckles.  
“Bless them both, I suppose. The Lieutenant isn’t exactly the most…mentoring kind of person in this place.”  
Gavin shrugs.  
“He’s the only detective here without a partner, Fowler was only gonna let that slide for so long. And he’s probably a damn sight better than I was.”  
“And look at us now.”

A few minutes of silence pass while the two detectives sort through their case files and look through evidence before Gavin’s foot nudges Nathaniel’s ankle under the desk.  
“Hey,” he calls quietly, “Hey, there he is, that’s him.”  
Nathaniel looks up from his computer, expecting to see just a new face in the standard blues, but instead, he sees his mirror image in a grey blazer, white button-down, and dark blue jeans, with dark brown eyes and matching hair brushed back from his face, cleanly shaven. Gavin coughs into his elbow as he chokes on his coffee.  
_“Canniel—,”_ Nathaniel gasps quietly, hidden under Gavin’s coughing.  
“What the fuck—??” Gavin wheezes. “I thought you said—,”  
“I… It’s a very complicated relationship…”  
Gavin wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and turns back to face the new addition to the room.  
“A fuckin’ ghost… Jesus, you alright, Nate?”  
Canniel’s head twitches lightly in their direction and he turns to face them, eyes landing on Nathaniel with a hard stare, and Nathaniel glares right back at his twin. 

Yes, twin.

Some think that when an angel comes to Earth, they possess a human vessel, but that’s not quite true. Nathaniel is one of a set of triplets, three angels created from the same grace that formed their celestial bodies, so their human forms were identical as well. Any angel that comes to Earth must have a human form, otherwise, the sight of their pure being would drive humans mad. 

Canniel is called into Captain Fowler’s office right when Lieutenant Anderson arrives, the older man groaning as he looks between the captain and Canniel, rolling his eyes and reluctantly passing by his desk and up the stairs, Canniel in tow, who spares another long look at Nathaniel before walking into the glass office and closing the door behind him.  
Nathaniel sighs and rubs his face out of frustration.  
“…you never really talked about your brothers. Just that they were…gone.”  
Nathaniel looks through his fingers before taking a deep breath and leaning back in his chair.  
“As I said, it’s complicated.”  
“Some kinda personal beef?”  
“…something like that. I’ll speak with him once he’s done with the captain.”

Everyone else in the precinct keeps staring at Nathaniel, then to his twin in the captain’s office, then back at him. He can only guess the questions on their minds. Seven years in this precinct and Gavin is the only one who knew he had any family at all. Well, Tina too, but she always knew anything and everything Gavin knew, and Nathaniel respected that. She knew better than to gossip about something like that. Even now, she’s staring at him from the break room. He can feel her eyes.  
A few minutes go by before Nathaniel feels someone behind him and he quickly turns around and snatches a wrist in his hand, looking up at the owner with steely eyes.  
“Yes?” He asks.  
Canniel yanks his wrist away and adjusts his tie needlessly, then clears his throat.  
“I’d like to speak with you if you wouldn’t mind. Outside?”  
“I was going to ask you for the same.”  
Nathaniel stands, keeping his cold eyes on his brother for a moment longer before turning to Gavin.  
“Excuse us, Gavin, I’ll be right back.”  
Gavin nods slowly, eyes flicking back and forth between the twins.  
“Sure thing, angel. I’ll uh, be waiting. Here. Uhm. Yeah.”

Nathaniel stands from his desk and walks away towards the entrance of the precinct without waiting for his brother and ignoring the stares and whispers that follow him, pushing the glass doors open and walking around to the side of the building to the alleyway, where he waits until he hears Canniel’s footsteps, and he quickly swings around to grab the other angel by the lapels of his grey blazer and pulls him over, turning them so he slams his twin against the brick wall, feet off the ground.  
“You’d better make it quick, Canniel. What the hell are you doing here?”  
Canniel rolls his eyes and pulls his brother’s fists off his blazer with ease, Nathaniel dropping him with a hard glare that keeps him pinned in place.  
“There’s been an issue lately with angels falling to Earth, deviating from their purpose out of love for their humans,” Canniel replies, face void of any sort of feeling on the matter. “So, they sent me. Specifically, Amenadiel sent me.”  
“Amenadiel?”

Amenadiel acted as God’s mouthpiece. Few, very few, spoke directly to their creator, so Amenadiel (as one of their first children before creation was even a passing thought) was the closest to them and took on the responsibility of messenger pigeon. What Amenadiel said was just as law and truth as if it had come from God themselves. If an order came from her, it had come from God.

Nathaniel takes a step back, looking over his twin to see if he was lying, but finds nothing.

“Why…,”  
“Why me? Well, our best hunter ran off several years ago for exactly the reason I’m here, so might as well send the second best.” Canniel says with no small amount of animosity.   
“No, that wasn’t—,” Nathaniel stops and glares at his twin. “You were there, Canniel, you know why I _‘ran off’_.”  
“I know why you left your _family._ ”  
“ _I_ _fell in love!_ ”  
“You made a _choice._ ” Canniel snaps back.  
Nathaniel shoves himself away from Canniel and kicks a nearby empty can down the alley, imagining it was his twin’s smug face in hopes it would make him feel better. It doesn’t.  
“Gavin was going to get himself killed if I didn’t physically step in.”  
“That’s just the way it is, Nathaniel, you can’t do anything to—,”  
Nathaniel turns on his brother in a flash, from one wall of the alley to the other, and is thrilled that he towers over him. Not by much, but enough that Canniel backs up just a little, back against the grimy bricks.  
“And I suppose it’s just a _coincidence_ that you were sent to _this_ precinct, that you were partnered with the _Lieutenant_ ; a sad, lonely, miserable, suicidal, and self-destructive mess that I know for a _fact_ you’ve been assigned to guard? Even if I hadn’t seen you watching over him for myself, I can smell your _miracles_ all over him.”  
Canniel turns up his nose and sniffs.  
“I have an opportunity, I’m going to take it. I didn’t deliberately abandon my family and Father to keep him alive.” 

Nathaniel sighs and looks up at the sky, looking for shapes in the clouds as he anxiously twists the ring on his finger with his thumb.  
“…is belittling me all you wanted to talk about?”  
“You looked shocked to see me. I thought I’d explain myself.”  
The movement of Nathaniel’s fingers at his side catches Canniel’s eyes and he sighs.  
“So, that was him? Really? I certainly hope he was worth falling for.”  
Nathaniel clenches his fist tight.  
“Worth more than whatever you’re here for. I swear, Canniel, if you do anything that could hurt him while you’re here, I’ll—,”  
“Rip my wings off? Trap me here like you are?” Canniel snorts. “Please. My being here has nothing to do with you or your human. Just let me do my job, find out why this is happening and where the angels are going, and I’ll be out of your pretty little feathers soon enough. It shouldn’t be more than a few months and you’ll never have to see me again.”  
Nathaniel nods and turns away.  
“Let’s hope so.” He says as he starts to turn back around the corner to the precinct. Canniel follows.  
“By the way!” Canniel calls, making Nathaniel stop and look back over his shoulder. “My name is Connor. Some of us can’t get away with our real names down here.”

Back inside the precinct, the brothers return to their desks, Nathaniel more or less slumping into his seat and leaning forward, resting his head on his desk with his arms up and crossed over the back of his neck. He hears Gavin clear his throat.  
“So…? What’s, uh, what’s his deal?”  
“…he’s here now. He more or less told me to mind my own business and we agreed to stay out of each other’s way. Ca— Connor and I haven’t spoken to each other in…several years.”  
“When you left home or after your accident?”  
Nathaniel sits up to rest his head on his knuckles.  
“He was the last person I spoke to before I left. He tried to convince me to stay…”  
Gavin whistles low.  
“Damn. Gotta be awkward working in the same precinct then.”  
“You have no idea.”  
Gavin shrugs.  
“Hope he’ll at least make himself useful on Anderson’s case. Seems pretty open and shut to me, but these guys always have ways of trying to make it more complicated.”

The Lieutenant’s case; A homicide involving a man found dead in his home with a halo and wings drawn in his own blood on the wall his corpse was slouched against, the current suspect in holding and awaiting interrogation. They weren’t particularly hard to find, either. Apparently, according to the file, the suspect had been hiding in the attic and had begged the arresting officer not to tell the others he was there and claimed: _“he was gonna kill me, I was just defending myself.”_  
Not a particularly good defense when the victim had 28 stab wounds to the chest, and 10 more defensive wounds on his arms.

But there was something so…odd about that scene. Something about the suspect that made something itch in Nathaniel’s head, like trying to figure out if that familiar face is someone you knew years ago but couldn’t place where you’d seen them before.

He watches Canniel— _Connor_ introduce himself to the Lieutenant when he arrives, huffing a quiet laugh as the older man wants literally nothing to do with him at all and dismisses him right before Fowler calls them both into his office. As they pass Nathaniel’s desk, he glares at his twin. Nothing about this is sitting right with him. His brother doesn’t know how to behave around humans, doesn’t understand he has to be careful, that they’re smarter than he’ll give them credit for. If he isn’t extremely careful, someone will notice how much he doesn’t belong here. Perhaps not tag him as an angel specifically, but definitely that something is off about him.

“Nate?”  
Nathaniel breaks from his thoughts and blinks, eyes coming back into focus and flicking to Gavin, who’s staring at him.  
“Yes? Sorry, I—,”  
“No, it’s fine.” Gavin soothes. “Just… Are you gonna be alright?”  
Nathaniel sighs.  
“…I’ll manage. Who knows? Maybe… Maybe this could be…good for us?”  
“…hope so. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that spooked. Takes a lot to surprise a guy like you. Oh, hey, check it. Fowler’s yellin’ at Anderson about somethin'. Wanna use those special eyes of yours and tell me what he’s sayin'?”  
Nathaniel chuckles and decides to indulge the man, turning in his chair to look at the altercation in the captain’s office.  
“Hmm… _‘I want you to investigate these cases and see if there’s any link.’_ Strange… I thought this already was the Lieutenant’s case?”  
Gavin shakes his head.  
“Not ’til this morning. We were gonna take it, but I guess Fowler’s making this Hank’s last chance. You’ve seen the guy, he shouldn’t be here. He’s hungover as fuck, babe, if he isn’t still drunk from last night.”  
Nathaniel shrugs as the Lieutenant gestures over his shoulder to where Connor is standing with his hands folded in front of him, then Fowler spreads his arms.  
“Fowler’s saying _‘Everybody’s overloaded. I… I think you’re perfectly…qualified? For this type of investigation.'_ ”  
Hank stands, shouts something Nathaniel can’t see with his back turned, but whatever it is makes Fowler angry.  
“Connor’s been sent specifically to help Hank on this case, it seems. And… He’s just been confirmed as Hank’s partner.”  
Everyone in the precinct can hear Hank shouting about that, but it’s muffled and they can’t understand him. Connor is looking unbothered.   
“The captain is really laying into him.” Gavin laughs. “Go on, keep goin’.”  
“Of course. _‘Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off. You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth.’_ Oh, Hank must have gotten smart with him.” he says with a smirk as he continues reading Fowler’s lips. “ _'Okay, okay, I’ll pretend like I didn’t hear that, so I don’t have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder because it already looks like a fucking novel. This conversation is over.’_ ” Nathaniel says. “And… Fowler’s apparently had enough of Hank's _bitching_ , and is giving him a choice. …either these cases, or his badge.”  
Gavin whistles low.  
“Damn. I was half hoping that wouldn’t be true, but…”  
“No,” Nathaniel says, turning away from the captain’s office, “you’re right to think it would be. As you said. The lieutenant’s been doing poorly and his work has been suffering since his son passed away. Fowler’s given him more than enough time to grieve and get his life back in order, but it just isn’t working. Hank needs an ultimatum, the captain can’t protect him forever.”

Hank storms out of Fowler’s office, leaving Connor with the captain for a moment before he leaves too. Nathaniel sighs and starts digging through reports for his other cases, but Fowler’s voice calls out again.  
“Anderson, Arkay, interrogation, now! Reed, Lucan, my office!”

Nathaniel and Gavin share a confused look before standing from their desks and walking into the captain’s office, the glass door closing behind them with a gentle thud.  
“…yes, sir?” Nathaniel asks.  
“You two are going to be added onto Hank’s case. You’re going to make sure the rookie survives.” Fowler says without looking up from his computer.  
“What??” Gavin shouts. “No fucking way! We’ve got enough shit to do! Anderson’s a fucking hazing ritual, if he can’t—,”  
“Gavin,” Nathaniel says sternly, making his partner stop and shove his hands into his pockets with a heavy sigh. “Captain… I don’t think that’s a good idea. Connor’s my brother—,”  
“No shit. I didn’t know you had one.”  
Nathaniel sighs.  
“I don’t think it’s…appropriate to have my brother and I working the same case, sir.”  
Fowler looks up from his screen and hums, then digs through a cabinet at his side and pulls out a piece of paper.  
“Here.”  
“…sir?”  
“Here. Requests for a change of partner. If you think you and Connor are ‘too close’ to work together, then you shouldn’t be working with Reed either. By all rights, you two shouldn’t even be in the same precinct. Internal Affairs and Human Resources is constantly up my ass about you two, so I’m glad you were the one to bring this up.”  
Nathaniel stares at the paper, feeling white-hot rage boiling in his chest. How dare he! There are few times that Nathaniel feels the powers he gave up bubble back to life, like a wet lighter sparking in a vain attempt to light itself, but it doesn’t come. Not when Gavin reaches out and grabs hold of Nathaniel’s hand. It feels like a brand, Gavin’s fingers pressing into his skin, and it’s enough of a shock that Nathaniel comes back to himself. His face relaxes, his muscles loosen, and he feels a particularly sharp ache in his back.  
“Nate. Angel. Don’t.” Gavin says, then looks at their captain, who is smugly pulling the paper back and putting it away. “We’ll work with Hank and his new chihuahua. Pray this doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass.”  
“Good. Now get your asses to interrogation. And Nathaniel? Don’t you _ever_ look at me that way again, do you understand me?”  
“…yes, sir.”

Gavin pulls Nathaniel out of the office and down the stairs, still holding his hand, which he focuses on. 

A request for a change of partner? Who does Jeffrey Fowler think he is, insinuating Nathaniel would ever, ever want to abandon Gavin, goading him into a reaction like that? For a moment, he imagined the things he could do. The fury of an angel was not something light, it was something that decimated cities thousands of years ago in the blink of an eye, and Fowler dared poke at him like that?  
No.  
No, it—  
Fowler didn’t know.  
_Nobody_ knew.  
Not even Gavin knew.

And Canniel being here is going to ruin it all, he knows it.

“Nate, don’t let him get to you like that. That was a shitty move to pull, he has no idea what your history with Connor is. I mean, fuck! I don’t even know!”   
Gavin runs his fingers through his hair as they stand outside the observation room, huffing a heavy breath of air as he then runs his hands down his face.  
“Look, just… Do your best. With Connor, I mean. You always do, babe, and I know this is a challenge that won’t beat you. If you can, just pretend he isn’t there. He’s not your brother, he’s just a rookie. Some green little tenderfoot who wouldn’t know which end of a gun is aimed at the other guy. You’re better at this than he is, you’re his superior, and he looks like he’s got an inferiority complex a fuckin’ mile wide.”  
Nathaniel has to smile. It’s so like Canniel to want to prove himself by any means necessary, seeing only the end goal without the hurdles in between. Gavin used to be much the same way until he showed up and made him warm again.  
They enter the observation room where Connor and Chris are watching Hank in the interrogation room with the suspect, who is almost catatonic. He isn’t reacting to Hank’s questions, to the man snapping his fingers in front of his face, not even when Hank gets frustrated and slams his hands on the table.  
“He’s not going to get anywhere with an approach like that,” Connor says. “The suspect is likely traumatized.”  
Chris nods.  
“Did he say anything to you last night?” He asks.   
Nathaniel blinks. Connor was the arresting officer last night? How long has he been on Earth?  
Connor shakes his head.  
“Not really, just that he was defending himself, that he was afraid Carlos Ortiz was going to kill him, and not to let everyone else know he was there.”  
Nathaniel turns up his nose.  
“He’s still covered in the victim’s blood. Nobody thought to give him a change of clothes and put those in evidence?”  
Chris shrugs.  
“We tried, man, he wouldn’t have it. He fought us, screamed not to touch him, we even tried to sedate him but it didn’t work. We couldn’t even fingerprint the guy, they were totally smooth. Not a single print.”  
Nathaniel takes in a sharp breath of air, clenching his hands behind his back. Is their suspect an angel? Was their suspect an angel at some point? It would make sense for Connor to be here and explain the tingling familiarity Nathaniel feels around him.  
“Maybe he burned them off? Traffickers will do that to their victims to keep them from being identified.” He suggests, somewhat hopeful, but Chris shakes his head in disagreement.  
“That’s the thing, though. There’s no sign of scarring on his fingers that fits with the removal of the prints. We couldn’t get a single identifier off this guy. Nothing in DNA, no prints, and he won’t talk. It’s like he just…appeared one day.”

Nathaniel and Connor share a look, the shorter of the two raising an eyebrow. 

Hank gives up the interrogation with a huff and leaves the room, returning to observation with a heavy sigh.  
“We’re wasting our fucking time, we’re getting nothing outta him!”  
“Why not let the rookie give it a shot?” Gavin suggests with a smirk, elbowing Nathaniel as he giggles to himself.   
Hank, however, just looks at Connor and his puppy-dog face and sighs.  
“What do we have to lose? Go ahead,” he gestures to the interrogation room, “suspect’s all yours.”  
Inside, Nathaniel is screaming. Connor isn’t going to care what this angel says with these humans nearby, only that he gets the information he needs. He isn’t going to care what happens to the others on Earth if the humans find them out.  
Connor, with a smug look, needlessly fixes his tie and leaves the room, Gavin still laughing under his breath.  
“God, this is gonna be great.” He says. “Not gonna get shit from that guy.”  
“Don’t underestimate my brother, Gavin,” Nathaniel replies, looking down at him. “Connor is very…persuasive when he needs to be. He can get anything he wants with minimal effort.”

So can he. It’s the reason Nathaniel is one of their best interrogators. He can find out a person’s desires, motives, anything he wants to know about him with just a few choice words. Most people find it extremely hard to lie in his presence, and nobody except him knows why.

Connor smoothly slides into the chair across from the man, looking him over for a few moments. Their suspect has dark skin with hair shaved down close to his scalp, closer in some places than others, and there are multiple scars on his face, arms, and hands ranging from cuts to cigarette burns. His brown eyes aren’t looking at Connor, fixed on the reflective surface of the table, but they’re flickering like he’s tempted to look at the new arrival.  
“…you’re hurt,” Connor says, then leans forward a bit. “Did Carlos do that to you? Beat you?”  
The man doesn’t speak, just shuffles in his chair. Connor sighs.  
“You claimed self-defense, yet that man you killed had twenty-eight stab wounds to just his chest alone. Seems a little overkill, doesn’t it? There are a few people here who think you liked it.”  
He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight.  
“…stop it…”  
Connor smirks.  
“So you _can_ speak. They were starting to think I was lying when I told them what you said to me last night.”  
The man looks up, fear in his teary eyes.  
“…what…what did you…tell them?”  
“Exactly what you told me.”

In observation, everyone is looking at each other bewildered. This man hadn’t spoken once except, apparently, to Connor when he’d found him hiding in the attic, and now here he is again, getting words.

“So, what’s your name?” Connor asks, leaning back in his chair casually. “They couldn’t get any prints off you or hits on your DNA, and I’d really like a name to put to your face. Come on, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. It’ll be our little secret.” He says, adding a wink.  
The man looks to his right at the large mirror, taking in his own appearance and then looking at Connor’s reflection, then turns back and looks at his face.  
“I… My name is… It’s…Shaolin.”  
“Shaolin? That’s an interesting name. My name is...” Connor glances at the mirror for just a moment before he says, “Connor.”  
Shaolin snorts quietly, shoulders shaking.  
“…no, it’s not.”  
Connor blinks.  
“Oh? Strange, that’s what all my identification says. Wouldn’t that be something, if it was all wrong and not who I was at all?” He smirks. “Tell me what happened, Shaolin. It’s not looking good for you.”

In observation, Gavin shudders.  
“You’re brother’s a fucking creep, angel.” He whispers, and Nathaniel nods.  
“Indeed.”

“It was an accident.” Shaolin answers.  
“An accident? What, you tripped and stabbed Mr. Ortiz twenty-eight times? That’s impressive.”  
Shaolin tightens his fists as he looks at his blood-stained reflection on the table.  
“No!” He shouts. “No, it’s an accident that I’m even here! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”  
Connor leans back in his chair and smiles.  
“Tell me, then, what was supposed to happen.”  
“I came here to love someone! To protect them! But— But they… I— I failed. I couldn’t help them, I tried so hard and I loved them so much, but it just wasn’t enough!”  
The detective hums, glancing towards the mirror again, and Nathaniel glares right back.  
“Why didn’t you just leave when it didn’t work out? Go back home, maybe?”  
“I couldn’t. You know that.”  
Connor sighs.  
“I don’t, sorry. You can explain it to me if you like,” he says, drawing a sharp scowl from Shaolin, “or you can tell me more about what happened to Ortiz?”  
Shaolin exhales and draws his legs up into his chair.  
“I couldn’t stop him… He kept hitting me over and over and over again, he wouldn’t stop even though I begged him to. I— I was so scared he was going to kill me even though I…”  
“…you what?”  
“I can’t die here.”

Everyone in observation has the same confused looks on their faces, looking between each other to make sure they heard right. Except for Nathaniel. Gavin is the one who breaks the silence.  
“…what the fuck is this guy taking?”  
“Some new strain of ice?” Chris offers, but Hank shakes his head.  
“If he was iced, he’d be paranoid and angry, not…delusional.” The lieutenant says.

“You can’t die here? Interesting… Tell me, what did you feel before you killed him?”  
“I told you,” Shaolin replies, “I was scared. I was so terrified and I thought for a moment I was—,”  
“Human?” Connor suggests, smirking when he gets a nod from Shaolin. “I see. And after you attacked him?”  
“I tried telling him not to, kept telling him why, but he didn’t believe me… I guess that’s why I thought I was really…human. I thought I… I was just defending myself… I grabbed that knife off the counter and I just… I couldn’t stop. Everything I’d been through from the moment I got here just came pouring out and I couldn’t stop it… And I felt better.”  
“…and tell me, Shaolin, why did you draw those things on the wall?”  
Shaolin seems…distant now, far away in his mind, but is still aware of what’s going on around him as he answers Connor’s question while looking him right in the eyes.  
“I couldn’t let him take what I am away from me, not anymore. So I made sure he knew it in the end.”

Connor gives a final nod before standing from his chair and turning to the mirror, smirking at the other officers and detectives inside.  
“I think I’m finished here.” He says before turning back to Shaolin. “They’ll be coming to take you back to your cell shortly.”  
As he says, Nathaniel, Hank, Gavin, and Chris come in from observation to make sure he gets taken back to his cell, the last of the four moving to help him stand with his hands cuffed, but Shaolin fights.  
_“Don’t touch me!”_ He shouts, making Gavin roll his eyes.  
“Shut up, man, just fucking get up, we don’t have time for this.”  
“Leave me alone!”  
“Detective Reed, I really don’t think—,” Connor starts but is interrupted.  
“Hey, you shut the fuck up. No fucking rookie is gonna tell me what to do, you got that?”  
Connor glares.  
“Yes, but Shaolin is not going to—,”  
“I said to shut your fuckin’ mouth, asshole! Chris, fucking get him up.”  
“I’m trying, Detective, but he isn’t—,”  
“Let go! Let go of me, don’t touch me! Don’t make me do it again!” Shaolin cries out, fighting against Chris so hard that he knocks himself out of his chair and scoots backward against the wall into the corner. “I don’t want to! Don’t make me, don’t touch me, _leave me alone…!_ ”  
Nathaniel quickly steps between Chris and Shaolin, looking at the angel over his shoulder for a moment.  
“As much as I hate to admit it, my brother is right. Force is not the solution with him. Give me a moment, please, Chris.”  
Chris, still holding his cuffs, just looks between Shaolin, Nathaniel, and Connor, before nodding.  
“O…kay. Yeah. Sure.”  
Nathaniel nods, then turns around and kneels, letting Shaolin get a good look at him. He does, eyes flicking back and forth between him and Connor before Nathaniel says, “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” And he outstretches his hand. _“You’re safe, Shaolin.”_

Shaolin shakily takes the offered hand and stands up, and Nathaniel looks at the others in the room as he squeezes Shaolin’s palm gently.  
“Don’t touch him. He’s suffering from trauma. Just lead him back to holding and he’ll follow you without any trouble.” Nathaniel explains, then looks back at Shaolin. “Right?”  
The man nods in agreement and slowly walks past Nathaniel, looking at him before flicking his eyes to Connor, then continuing on his way out of the room behind Chris, hands close to his torso and feet shuffling across the black tile until he’s gone and the door is hissing shut behind them.   
Hank, eyebrows drawn together, just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and gestures between the brothers.  
“Alright, whatever the fuck is going on here with you two? Sort that shit out. I don’t want any sibling drama or pissing contests between you fucking up this case, got it?”  
Nathaniel and Connor both stand up straight, hands folded behind their back.  
“Yes, Lieutenant.” They say in unison, making each other blink and turn to glare at each other.  
“Well, this is fucking weird. Nate, let’s go.” Gavin says, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.  
“I’ll be just a moment. I want to talk with my brother if you two don’t mind. Clear the air.”  
Hank and Gavin just look at their partners before shrugging and leaving the room together, leaving the two angels alone in the interrogation room. Once alone, Connor leans back against the silver table.  
“What’s this about?”  
“What the _hell_ was that about, Canniel?”  
“Connor.” He corrects, then shrugs. “I told you. Angels have been falling to earth in incredible frequency over the last few years, and it seems our friend Hanniel was one of them. Add on top of falling that he killed a human, we’d be investigating that either way.”  
“And what was all that about then? Making him talk about not being human, not being able to go home and you knowing why?”  
Connor smirks.  
“If you were a human, would you believe him? No. Your friends probably all think he’s on drugs or delusional. It’ll be fine. Once he’s processed, I’ll be taking him home for trial and castigation.”  
“Trial and castigation?? Connor, you’re going to torture him! He’s been on Earth too long, he won’t be able to handle going back home and you know it!”  
“Part of the punishment. You should never fall so far that returning becomes a painful rapture.”  
Nathaniel glares, feeling a twinge in his back.  
“And after this ‘trial’ you say he’s going to have?”  
“He wants to be human so bad, then Gabriel will likely rip his grace away and make it so. Send him right back where he thinks he belongs.” He explains, then looks at the mirror across from him. _“And you!”_ He calls. _“Turn off the mirror!”_  
Nathaniel turns around quickly just as he watches the opacity of the mirror dial down, seeing a dazed-looking Chris on the other side, eyes hazy and pupils fully dilated. Connor groans.  
“Great. Another mess to clean up while I’m here. If we’re done, I have a memory to erase.” He says as he stands up straight and fixes his tie. “I think you’re the one who’s been on Earth too long, brother. You didn’t even know he was there.” He looks back at the glass. _“What are you doing in there?”_  
“…collecting the recording of Shaolin’s interrogation,” Chris says evenly, voice lacking emotion or enunciation under Connor’s influence.  
_“When was it stopped?”_ Nathaniel asks.  
“When we left the room to escort him to holding.”  
The two angels sigh. At least there won’t have to be any alterations to the evidence.  
_“Stay there,”_ Connor says as he presses his palm to the scanner and leaves the room. Standing in the doorway, he looks over his shoulder at Nathaniel. “You’re my brother, Nathaniel, and I still love you. Don’t get in my way and make me do something I won’t want to do.”

And then Nathaniel is alone, watching through the glass as Connor enters the observation room and places his index and middle finger and thumb on Chris’s forehead in a triangle shape, mumble something in a language not meant for mortal ears, and then Chris, still disoriented, leaves the room to return to his desk, Connor following close behind. Nathaniel leaves too, planning on returning to his desk and trying to get some work done, but he sees Shaolin, formerly Hanniel, sitting in his holding cell with his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms around his shins, and he can’t just leave him there. He walks down the hallway and stands in front of the glass, knocking quietly.  
“…Hanniel?” He calls softly, making the other’s head lift.  
“…what do you want? Are you here to take me back?”  
Nathaniel shakes his head.  
“No. I’m actually not going to be taking you anywhere. I’m going to help you get out of here and go to where you really belong.”  
Shaolin tilts his head.   
“…why? I know what you are, and I know what he is too. Aren’t you two…?”  
“Never mind that. Now, do you know about a place called Jericho?”

-

Later that night, when Nathaniel is home, he can’t relax. Not while knowing what Connor is here to do, why he’s even been sent here in the first place, knowing the risk that carries for himself and the others still in hiding. He stands on the balcony of his apartment, shirtless and wearing sweatpants as he holds a cigarette to his lips and takes in a long drag. Not a vice he normally indulges in, but every so often he’ll get the urge. He looks out over the city, watching the cars on the highway stop and go, watching lights in other buildings turn on and off, listens to the car horns and flying planes and commotion of people on the sidewalks and, if he blocks everything else out, he can hear the water of the river flowing under the Ambassador Bridge as it splashes against the border of Riverside.  
He has to get Shaolin out of the precinct tonight, but with Connor around, he’s going to suspect him immediately. But what can he do? Shaolin won’t survive going home, and Jericho is the only place Nathaniel knows he’ll be safe, even with Connor sniffing about looking for them. As long as Connor doesn’t find out where it is, then it should be fine. He’ll have to slip out while Gavin is asleep…  
As he plans, he hears padded footsteps join him on the balcony, Gavin sliding up behind him and resting against his bare back. The human smiles and holds up an open bottle of beer, which Nathaniel takes with a soft, grateful hum. Bottle in hand, Gavin moves to his side and leans against the railing, lighting up his own cigarette and looking out over the city. Nathaniel sips his beer and looks up at the stars.  
“…is it really that bad with your brother?” Gavin asks quietly.  
Nathaniel sighs.  
“Honestly, no, but… A long time ago, I needed his support and he didn’t give it to me. I was alone during a period that turned my life upside down. I was lost and alone and scared, but I had nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. I got back on my feet eventually, but I did it alone.”  
Gavin nods.  
“…and the accident?”  
“It was soon after I left. I…” he drops his head and shakes it, feeling a phantom pain in his shoulders that’s been weighing him down all day. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, dear. Forgive me.”  
“It’s okay, baby,” Gavin says as he puts a hand on Nathaniel’s back, fingers running over his skin, grazing the webbing along his shoulder-blades with tenderness nobody would believe Gavin was capable of.

He’d told Gavin that he was in a motorcycle accident shortly after arriving in Detroit where he was thrown from his bike and skidded across the road on his back.

Nathaniel takes a shaky inhale of his cigarette before choking on a cry that makes him cough, throwing the burning gasper over the rail and resting his forehead on his arms, salty tears streaming down his cheeks as he relives the pain of taking an angel blade, the only thing he’d brought with him to Earth, to his back and shearing his wings from his body. All the while, Gavin is leaning against him, saying nothing. But he’s there.

And that’s enough for Nathaniel.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Check out my other works!
> 
> Yell at me on Twitter! @FukaiFox
> 
> Wanna know what I've been listening to while writing this?  
> Spotify playlist for Fallen Feathers: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4onaF0ij2sObNr3baPYZ4Y?si=hge3Xc6MSvKkLRKxqX6ejQ


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